Coffee Comfort
by HowNowWit
Summary: Just because something is complicated doesn't mean you should give up. Rizzles. Two-shot. [Based on tumblr prompts.]
1. Part One

Coffee Comfort

"It's broken."

"What do you mean?" she called.

"I _mean_ it's _broken_."

A loud clatter chased by profuse swears had Maura trotting the last few yards to the kitchen. She rounded the corner and paused to survey the damage.

Metal and plastic on the floor. Coffee grounds everywhere. Brown on brown, like caramel snowfall. Jane slumped against the counter, finger in her mouth, shooting a death glare at the espresso maker. The red light on the machine glared back.

She curled her lips inward, briefly, to stifle an abrupt surge of humor. Now was not the time.

Right. Maura stooped and gathered the fallen lid and lever. Solve the easiest task first.

She felt the waves of sullen silence emanating from Jane. Wading through toward the sink, she placed the dropped pieces inside and began to lather the sponge.

As she washed, she watched Jane from the corner of her eye. After a few more moments of silent fuming, Jane shuffled to the pantry, movements sharp, and retrieved the hand brush and dustpan. She knelt and began to tame the powdered pool.

Maura glanced at the machine again. It had been a long struggle, an age-old battle between arch nemeses. A few notable skirmishes and almost casualties – there was that one time involving a curling iron – but still a decided stalemate. Neither party would budge. Perhaps it was time to end the infamous feud once and for all.

"Tell me what happened." Her fingers worked around the portafilter, finding a small dent in the rounded steel. Noticeable, but it wouldn't impede use.

"I just wanted coffee," Jane grumbled, the sound managing to skirt the rim of petulant. She gave a more violent scoop of the grounds, raising a fine dust and an irritated cough. "I don't see why it should be this hard to—"

"Maybe if I explain to you the process, it will—"

Jane rose, posture stiff. "I _know_ how to make coffee."

Resting her forearms on the sink, Maura tilted her head and stared, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. _Really?_

A long moment of silent battling wills, and Jane's expression dropped into slight embarrassment. She closed her mouth and rocked back on her heels, face shifting too fast for Maura to read. The muscles of her forearms flexed, and Maura tried to imagine the multitude of emotions behind the harsh squeeze of those hands. Jane dipped her head, and dark curls curtained to hide her face as she knelt once more.

 _Stormy today_. Maura's skin felt overly sensitive, as though aware of every shift in Jane's roiling emotions. Why would this bother Jane so much? Why now?

"Tell me what happened," Maura repeated, voice steady as she went back to cleaning.

A tap on her ankle, and Maura lifted her bare foot as Jane swept beneath.

"I got out the grounds, put them in the doohickey."

It took effort, but Maura refrained from correcting her.

"Turned the lever thing."

A tap on her other ankle and Maura switched feet. This time, Jane's hand remained, fingers wrapped around delicate skin, tight but not controlling. The warmth was surprising, and not unwelcome. She glanced down at the long expanse of back, noticed the muscle groups as they rolled beneath the cotton of Jane's BPD tee with every reach and pull. Jane kept her head down.

"Thought you might want some. Y'know, before shopping." The mutter was almost too low to hear.

Maura blinked, hands stilling. Jane wanted to make coffee for her? As a surprise? The thought buzzed along her skin in a pleasant way.

"Oh?" She tried to keep her voice casual, hoping to learn more.

Bristles swept along the bottom of her raised foot and Maura practically leaped in the air. She let out a strangled half-laugh, half-cry, almost losing her balance but for Jane's steadying hand on the small of her back. She glared.

"Had some on your foot." All innocence.

A long stretch of eye contact as Jane rose with the full dustpan in hand. Accusatory against guileless. Not a muscle twitched out of place. Except for the crinkle at the corner of brown eyes, Maura would've been fooled. She saw the mischief behind the poker face, saw the word _ticklish_ run through Jane's mind as she headed for the wastebasket.

Maura's eyes narrowed. _Stormy indeed_.

"So I pushed the button to turn it on…"

Jane banged the pan on the trashcan for good measure.

"But _then_ …" Jane turned and made an exaggerated motion with her hands that somehow managed to involve her entire body. An elaborate dance move gone wrong. It sent dark curls whisking over one shoulder and bright eyes searching for hers, asking for shared laughter.

Maura couldn't contain a chuckle, and she felt the intensity of Jane's gaze on her temple as she shook her head.

She shut off the water, and Jane was at her side with a towel. The atmosphere changed in the sudden quiet. Softer, more subdued. A scarred hand rested over hers, lingering a few moments before taking the portafilter. She heard _I'm sorry_ in the soft squeeze, _thanks_ in the light hip bump. When she glanced up, Jane remained focused on drying the portafilter, then the lid, even as their shoulders brushed.

Jane turned the items this way and that in her hands.

"So did I break it?" The words were low, quiet. Almost fragile.

Maura matched her tone. "No." She reached out to take the items, careful, and stepped away from the close press. The currents between them were strange, and she needed space to process. To breathe. Her lips quirked for her next words. "It will survive to brew another day."

That earned her crooked smile, and the tightness in Maura's chest relaxed.

"Why don't I show you how the espresso machine works?" She raised her eyebrows, all willing eagerness. Something about the past few minutes felt different, new, and though it was disconcerting, it was also…compelling. Maura was unwilling to let it go so easily.

Jane met and held her gaze as though weighing her words. The scrutiny seemed deeper than the decision warranted, and Maura resisted the urge to shift.

"Please?"

Jane sighed, brushing her hair out of her face, but stepped up to the machine. She glared down at it balefully, and Maura imagined the phrase, _we meet again_ , running through her mind.

She selected a bag from the cabinet. "Dark roast?"

Jane made a noncommittal noise and raised a shoulder. Maura took that as a yes.

She indicated each item as she named it. "Portafilter. Tamper."

Jane nodded, a line of concentration between her brows.

"Scoop out the grounds into the portafilter, then scrap your pinky across the top to level the surface."

Jane did as told, raising an eyebrow when Maura mentioned the pinky. As she worked, Maura watched the corner of Jane's lips twitch up, noticed the way they trembled as she held in her humor, and then the smile line that formed, just there, when that humor was too much to contain.

Jane looked up, expectant, and Maura's eyes darted up to meet Jane's, briefly lost in dark brown, then down, flustered. She grabbed the tamper, pushing her excess energy into motion.

"Good. Now we use the tamper, like this." She demonstrated and handed it to Jane, who began to compress the grounds. Biceps grew rounded, and a toned forearm stood out as Jane leaned into the task.

"Thirty to forty pounds of pressure. That shouldn't be difficult for you."

Jane glanced up sharply, and Maura felt a blush color her face. _Why did I say that? Better yet, why does it feel awkward?_

Maura cleared her throat, keeping her eyes averted. "Press and turn."

Finished, Jane set the portafilter in her line of sight. Maybe it was Maura's imagination, but it seemed she stepped closer than necessary. Maura tried to ignore the shared heat. And the goosebumps that formed on her skin.

"I don't see why you go through all this for a cup of espresso. It's just coffee." There was genuine curiosity in the statement this time. And also a touch of…melancholy?

"Some things require patience." She tapped off the excess powder. "A little nurturing, some effort." Maura maneuvered the portafilter into place. "Twist and lock, see?" Jane nodded. Her next words were quiet. "I find it can go a long way."

Jane had gone still beside her, thoughtful, and Maura fought the urge to cover the scarred hand that had curled into a loose fist on the countertop. Instead she found Jane's favorite mug and slid it beneath the filter. It wasn't an espresso cup by any means, but somehow it seemed fitting.

"Next time I'll show you how to steam milk."

Jane _hmm_ ed and leaned a hip against the counter. "Sounds…" She ran a hand through her hair. "…complicated."

"Just because something's complicated, doesn't mean you should give up on it." Maura closed the bag of dark roast and put it to the side. "In fact, I think it makes the end result all the more special."

Maura couldn't pinpoint the moment it changed, but she knew they were no longer discussing coffee. She gathered her courage and met Jane's gaze.

 _Comfort_. That was what she read in quiet, warm caramel. _Hope_ in uplifted eyebrows, _caution_ in the small crease between. _Affection_ in the tilt of her chin, the slight lean forward. All of it swirled together like the finest caffé macchiato.

She swallowed. Friendship, Maura was finding, had a strange way of warming her from the inside out.

Jane pushed the button without prompting, and the machine whirred to life. Soon dark espresso dripped from both spouts into the waiting mug.

"And what if it breaks again?" Low, raspy. Adverted eyes. Scarred hands fiddled with nothing.

Maura heard the question behind the question.

She reached to shut off the machine before the light, bitter afterbrew stained the sweetness. She paused, weighing her words carefully, aware of the power to cradle or crush with vowels and consonants.

She kept her voice light, sincere. "I would say it was never broken in the first place. But regardless, I'll be here to put it back together. Like always."

Jane swallowed, the sound loud in the silence.

"Maura." The name was earnest, strained, and Maura suddenly couldn't breathe. "I—"

Maura panicked.

"Here." She grabbed the cup and urged it into Jane's hands with her best attempt at a smile. "Give it a try."

Jane cradled the mug, glancing down at it before back at Maura. Her chest spasmed at the mingled hurt and confusion. Quickly hidden, yes, but Maura saw it, saw the crumple .

Jane brought the mug to her lips. She took a sip. Her eyes widened over the rim in surprised delight. "It's sweet!"

Maura chuckled. "That's the crema."

"Crème?"

"Crema," she repeated, emphasizing the _a_. "The thin layer of foam at the top of an espresso."

"Oh." Jane leaned back and smiled at her, the usual crinkled eyes and warmth, and it felt good. It felt like, _there's my Google mouth_. It felt _good_ , but…but it lacked that extra something from the past few minutes that sizzled across her skin. It was reserved. Just Jane.

Maura didn't understand the sudden disappointment that seized her heart.

They stood in silence, and Maura got the sense she was the only one uncomfortable. She shifted her weight, unable to stand still.

"So what do you think?" she asked, gesturing at the mug.

Jane swirled the cup and took another contemplative sip. She crossed one arm beneath the other holding the cup. Her words were slow but purposeful. "Maybe all these years, I've been drinking the wrong kind of coffee."

Maura blinked. What was that supposed to mean? Surely she was imagining…

She couldn't read Jane's expression. Brown eyes met hers evenly. Serene, calm. Resigned.

Jane took another, longer sip, and this time when she pulled the mug away, a bit of crema remained. Just above her upper lip, to the right.

Maura's mouth quirked. She gestured to her face. "You've got something…"

"Where?" Jane wiped at her mouth, but the wrong side.

Maura laughed. "No, here." She stepped forward and grasped Jane's wrist. Her other hand rose to cup Jane's jaw, holding her still. She brushed her thumb across the offending spot of crema, just grazing Jane's upper lip.

"There," she murmured once the splotch was gone, satisfied.

She watched the skin at the corner of Jane's mouth twitch, heard the loudness of her swallow. The muscles beneath her palm tensed and relaxed.

"Thanks," Jane replied, the warmth of the word caressing her face, and it was then Maura became aware of how close they stood.

How she could feel the heat of Jane's body even where she wasn't touching her. How soft the skin felt beneath her fingertips. How loud her heartbeat pulsed in her ears.

How Jane had yet to move.

And neither had she.

Nothing but loud breaths and pounding hearts as seconds ticked by. Panic clogged her throat, brief yet powerful, but she let it rage and pass. Left in its wake was cautious curiosity. Curiosity and the fragile bloom of potential. Jane still had not pulled away and that gave her the courage to act. She loosened her grip on a delicate wrist and slowly, so slowly, her fingers skated along the smooth skin of a forearm, skirted the dip of an elbow, rounded the curve of a shoulder and settled around the column of a long throat.

She looked into Jane's eyes, tried to read her. The connection burned, and her thoughts scattered. There was only dark mocha. Stormy. But patient, waiting. Watching.

"Jane?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

The skin beneath her fingers stretched with the word, as though wanting to smile, and her attention shifted. Maura brushed her thumb across the cheek, allowed it to stray and skirt the corner of Jane's lips. After a moment, Jane turned her head, and those lips pressed against the pad of her thumb. Tender, barely there.

Maura's breath caught in her throat.

A hand came to rest at the curve of her waist, light at first, hesitant. The warmth seeped through her shirt, and at her resultant shiver, the grip tightened, drawing her closer. The scent of lavender filled her nose, and Maura was dizzy with the sensation. Dizzy with the desire to lean closer and—

"Jane, I—" The words stuck in her throat.

 _To lean closer and_ —

The hand slipped fully around her waist. _Yes_.

She tilted her head up as her fingers tightened around Jane's neck, drawing Jane down. Her eyes closed and she felt the warmth of Jane's exhale.

Keys jingled in the door before it opened. Footsteps and rattling plastic shattered the silence.

It was pure instinct. She jumped away, heart pounding, and backed across the kitchen. One hand went to her throat, while the other crossed her middle, as though trying to hold herself together.

She glanced up, across the expanse of tile. Jane was left standing, one arm out – the one that fit so snugly around her waist – the other holding the coffee mug.

Angela entered the kitchen, all sunlight and motion. "Oh hi, girls."

If she felt the tension in the air, she didn't show it. She sat her bags on the counter and flipped her sunglasses to the top of her head. "The store was busy today. Maura, I got you a few things."

The response came automatic, without thinking. "Thank you, Angela." Her eyes stayed on Jane, watched as she placed the mug on the counter. Slow and careful. Oh so careful. As though it would… break.

Brown eyes flicked to hers, half-hidden behind loose curls, and Maura had to remind herself to breathe. She couldn't read that expression, couldn't read the tension in angular cheekbones or the question in a stormy gaze, now dulled. Muffled.

She didn't know what hers said in return.

"Can I get some help with the groceries?"

"Yeah, Ma." The raspy voice sounded no different than usual, but it still startled her. Jane's searching eyes darted away and she turned, headed for the door.

"I'll help," Maura heard herself saying. She felt like she was swimming, walking through water. Every movement slow and difficult, fighting against inertia.

"I got it," came the call from the hallway.

The words were like a push in the wrong direction, and Maura couldn't move at all. She stood, feeling lost in her own kitchen as Angela busied herself unpacking the crinkling plastic bags.

After a minute or so, her stasis seemed to register with Angela. She spared her a glance. "You okay, hon?"

"I—" Maura had no idea how to answer that question. She crossed to the forgotten mug and stared down at the cooling dregs of espresso.

"I…" She pushed the mug aside, safe, away from the unexpected commotion and pressed her hands to her thighs. "I'll help with the perishables."

...

...

A/N: Part 1 of 2. Calm down, y'all. This fic is based on two tumblr prompts, which I'll reveal at the end of part 2. Hope I don't disappoint.

Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about espresso makers, so any doo-hickeys, knobs, or levers were all made up for the purpose of the story. Well…I did do some research (okay, a lot of research). There are portafilters and tampers at least. The rest is my muse having fun. I would also like to thank wikipedia's ever helpful "List of coffee drinks." No joke.


	2. Part Two

Coffee Comfort

Part 2

Maura took a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and let it out in a slow exhale.

 _I can do this._

She grabbed a tennis shoe and bent her leg behind her to stretch her quadriceps. She held the pull for a good five seconds and repeated it with the other leg.

 _It's just a run. We do it all the time._

Except she and Jane hadn't been alone together since…since the coffee incident.

The thought brought back the now familiar tension, and Maura sighed in frustration and rolled her neck from side to side. The muscles twinged in protest. At this rate, she would need to push up her regular appointment with her masseuse.

 _Enough_. She squared with the door and fixed her eyes on the plain _12_ above the peephole. _Just do it._

A quick series of knocks and the door opened alarmingly fast to reveal Jane securing her unruly hair in a ponytail. The usual sport shorts and top – neutral blacks and greys – accentuated her long frame. She pulled the knot tight and stepped forward, closing the door behind her. The close quarters forced Maura to step back and give her room.

"Hey." The greeting was short, accompanied by a smile.

As Jane turned her back to lock the door, Maura took the brief Rizzoli respite to get her bearings. She hadn't expected everything to move so quickly. Would they talk? Or was this really just a run? When she had texted Jane last night, she ran through all sorts of scenarios in her mind. Anger, yelling. Tears, resentment. Excuses. Reserved conversation. Casual deflection. Hurt. Uncertainty. Hope. All of it involved some form of verbal communication. But instead she was here, and here was Jane. And they were just going to…run?

Jane faced her again, raised eyebrows and an expectant smile. "Ready?"

"Sure."

She followed Jane's trot down the steps and out into the pre-dawn grey. The early morning chill clung to skin not covered by her running outfit, and she hurried through the warm-up stretches. Darted glances at Jane revealed nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary, and it left Maura confounded.

They set off at a slow jog down the street, speeding up once they reached the trail's head. The scenery and chirping birds were lost on Maura, hyperaware of the woman at her side. The typical runner's mindset remained elusive.

The silence over the miles pressed in on her, and each footfall felt off, the impact harder than usual. Only once did she catch Jane studying her, just as she straightened from a cooling stretch at their halfway mark. The gaze was contemplative, searching, but as soon as Maura saw it, it was gone. Replaced by a small smile and a nudge, and they were on their way again.

She didn't know what she had expected with Jane, but it wasn't this. Normalcy.

 _Why did I expect it to be different?_ Or perhaps more importantly… _Why isn't it?_

It made her doubt and reassess and doubt again. She was distracted, mentally exhausted – the few sleepless nights hadn't helped – and she knew it interfered with her endurance. She felt it in the way Jane's stride shortened halfway through the way back, to accommodate her. The inner turmoil stretched to a point that she lost her focus.

"Watch it!" Jane called, and there were hands yanking her to the side, feet stumbling with hers to a halt.

Labored breaths were all she heard, that and the pounding of her own pulse. The spicy scent of sweat teased her nose, and she realized her head was practically tucked against Jane's collarbone. They stayed like that for a stunned moment, locked in each other's space. Until the arms around her shoulders loosened, and she unwound her own arms from Jane's waist, unsure how they had gotten there.

A glance back revealed a tree, jutting out at a turn in the path. That…would have hurt. She tried to quell the barrage of injuries and images her mind provided, had she not been pulled aside.

"Hey, Maur. You okay?"

The raspy question brought her eyes back to Jane, face dark with concern. Curls pulled loose from her hair tie framed her face. Maura found herself staring, thoughts still spinning in circles.

The almost collision had shaken her, and her knees trembled. But she nodded, trying to convince herself.

"Yes. I'm fine." Her voice shook.

Jane didn't look convinced, and Maura rested a palm on her shoulder. The contact made her fingers tingle, but it seemed to settle something in Jane's eyes.

"I'm fine," she repeated. "Let's go."

After that, she forced everything from her mind and focused instead on the steady rhythm of their feet striking pavement. She listened to the way Jane's strides synchronized with hers every few beats, and for a brief moment there were only two footfalls echoing in the early morning air. Two footfalls and two steady, even breaths moving together as dark slowly gave way to dawn. She caught Jane's profile in the burgeoning light. Sometimes more could be said without words than with. The realization grounded her, allowed her chest to expand without effort and loosened her muscles enough to settle into her stride.

It felt good. Comforting. It felt like…home.

As they neared the trailhead once more, Jane slapped the back of a hand to Maura's shoulder. The crooked smile, challenging eyebrow, and teasing glint in caramel eyes were all Maura needed to see.

They shot off, a sprint to the finish.

After the first burst of speed, Jane pulled ahead. A sheen of perspiration coated her skin, making her shirt cling to certain areas in enticing ways. Her easy stride was long and sure, and the bend and flex of muscles in thighs and calves made Maura wonder how Jane ever thought herself average. When Maura noticed herself noticing, she was glad of the excursion as an excuse for the blood rushing to her face.

Lungs burning, Maura put in one last surge of speed and found herself crossing the trail sign a few seconds before Jane. Stumbling to a halt, she bent and breathed, hands braced on wobbly legs, but she was all smiles and breathless laughter. It was probably the endorphins, but she had needed this. Needed the reassurance and routine.

She wondered for a moment if Jane had let her win, but then a shove to her shoulder made her straighten with mock affront.

The sight made any choice words catch in her throat.

A hand to a hip, all attitude as her lungs labored. Damp curls clung to temples and the nape of her neck. The smile was breathtaking, half-playful and half-joy in the crinkle of brown eyes. All of it directed at _her_.

And in that moment Maura wondered _how_. How had she never seen Jane before?

"Cheater," Jane drawled.

Maura let out a disbelieving laugh and shoved her in return. "I did no such thing."

Jane nodded as though it was not up for argument. "Yup."

Maura sighed. "You're impossible."

A grin. "Yup."

They exited the park at a walk, side-by-side, and paused on the street. The sun still clung to the horizon, the bright rays making them squint. This was where they usually went their separate ways. Uncertainty curled in Maura's stomach, and her heart clenched as Jane stepped off the curb to head home.

So that was it. Why did she suddenly feel lost again?

Jane turned, and Maura's heart lurched once more.

"See you tonight?" she asked.

Maura stood for a moment, lost in Jane's sun drenched profile, before she found her voice. _Sunday_. _Right_.

"Of course."

…

"Here."

Maura blinked and found herself eye level with her usual coffee cup, steam wafting into the air.

"Thought you might want some."

 _Oh God_. _Oh god oh god oh god I can't breathe_.

Maura took the offering and smiled. "Thanks."

She cradled the mug, wrapping her hands around the warmth that was usually so soothing. Now it held an entirely different meaning as she sank back into her couch. The scent of cinnamon and dark roast brought back memories and stirred emotions no words could define. Her heart rate picked up.

 _What does this_ mean _? Calm down_.

The Rizzoli Sunday dinner had passed with its usual rush of controlled chaos. Laughter and arguments, beer and pasta. She sat by Jane, like always, and her presence was a welcome buffer, with that mixture of cajoling teases and comforting touches. Nothing out of the ordinary. Although, their thighs _had_ brushed that one time, lingering, and neither of them had actively tried to pull away. Of course, neither of them acknowledged it, either. She had no way of knowing if Jane was even aware of the touch. That seemed unfair, when the persistent heat of smooth olive skin had slowly burned its way into Maura's psyche.

 _Now you're being melodramatic. Stop. Stop overanalyzing_. The panic seeped away after a few deep breaths, and Maura sighed as the tension left her shoulders. It was just Jane, and the quiet evening hours like this, together, was something she wouldn't trade for anything. Not even a mild existential crisis.

She kept her eyes on the journal article in her lap as Jane sat on the opposite end of the couch, her favorite mug in hand.

"I see you've settled your differences."

Jane paused, cup halfway to her mouth. "Huh?"

Maura gestured with her mug and Jane let out a laugh, eyes dancing. "Something like that." Her hands tapped along the rim. "I suppose you could say we now see eye to eye."

"Mm-hmm," Maura allowed, holding Jane's gaze for a heavy moment before going back to her article. She took a sip of coffee, the spice of cinnamon and caramel teasing her tongue. "Well, it's delicious."

A pause. "I agree," came the quiet reply.

The cushions shifted as Jane got comfortable, and Maura resisted the urge to analyze the words behind their words.

"What'cha got there?"

"Hmm?" Maura dragged her eyes up.

Jane nodded her chin at the paper in her lap.

"Oh." Maura flipped the pages idly. "There's a novel cephalosporin antibiotic combined with a beta-lactamase inhibitor, and I thought I'd read up on it." She tapped a nail against a sheet. "Hospitals may be adding it to their formularies, since the randomized controlled trials to date indicate it has greater activity against ESBL-producing _Enterobacteraceae_ and resistant _Pseudomonas_ strains. They're becoming an issue in some areas of the country. Especially considering the recent shortage of Zosyn."

Jane let out a light huff of a laugh before taking a sip. "Of course there is." She shook her head and turned on Sports Center, setting the volume on low.

"This okay?"

"Fine."

The fond smile was slow to fade as Maura indulged herself, let herself look as Jane became engrossed with the show. The hum of the air conditioner battled with the low murmur of stats and announcers, and the comfortable quiet combined with Jane's welcome presence served to calm whatever anxiety lurked beneath the surface. Maura lifted her feet onto the couch, pulling the throw blanket over her legs.

This was them. She loved it.

She sipped the still hot espresso and let the warmth settle in her stomach. Thumbing the handle, she glanced down at the dark liquid. Sometimes coffee was just coffee.

Even if she wanted it to mean more.

She shook her head. _Enough of that for tonight_.

The potential was there, and Jane was here, and for now that was enough.

She had lost herself amongst complicated intra-abdominal infections and ventilator-associated bacterial pneumonia when she felt it. A light touch at first, almost a tickle, but something told her not to move. There it was again. A soft stroke across her ankle, followed by two more. _What…?_

Maura turned her head, but there was no smiling or joking Jane to meet her gaze. No, Jane sat focused on her show, posture relaxed. Her left hand, however, rested over Maura's ankle, fingers grazing her skin. Tender, reverent.

She never wandered far, just that same route, over the rounded ridge of her ankle, down the smooth expanse of the top of her foot, and back again. Absently. An involuntary caress. As though tracing the tangible muscles and bones beneath her skin provided physical comfort all on its own. As though it said, _you're here_. _With me_. _And that is all I need_.

Maura struggled to control her breathing. The realization jolted something in her chest, and it refused to settle, spilling warmth through her body. Tears pricked her eyes, and she hurriedly blinked them away.

She couldn't help but feel they had lost something in that interrupted moment in the kitchen. A what-if stolen by fate. Where would they be now, if they…had she…

But that was gone. Done. And they were here, now. Sometimes you have to make your moments, rather than waiting for them to make you. Determination – and a touch of fear – gathered in her stomach, and she downed the rest of the espresso, setting the cup and her article aside.

"Jane."

"Hmm?" Distracted. The fingers kept stroking.

Maura shifted, sitting up, and tried again. "Jane."

"Yeah?" Jane glanced over, curious.

The hand paused, and she saw the exact moment Jane became aware. The muscles of her arm stiffened, and her eyes widened in a flare of panic.

Maura tried to soothe it with her tone. "I've been thinking."

Jane let out a half-laugh. "Should I be worried?" She pulled her hand away and curled it in her lap. A silent chastisement.

Maura allowed the brief humor, for she saw the nervous slant of Jane's shoulders, the tensing of her face. She scooted closer, flipping her feet to point the other direction, so she could face Jane.

"I meant what I said earlier."

Jane frowned. "About the bacteria?"

"About… Breaking." Dark eyes met hers. "I'll always be here. To help."

Jane stilled, expression turning serious. Now they were on the same page. She muted the television and the sudden quiet felt heavy.

Jane took a deep breath and let it out, eyes on her hands in her lap. "It's hard to promise always, Maura."

Maura flinched. With those words in the air, she felt everything, _everything_ rush up between them. But she heard the melancholy behind the words. Maybe they weren't on the same page, after all.

Maura reached for a scarred hand, and Jane let her take it. The same hand that had stroked her ankle moments before. She rubbed her thumb over rounded knuckles, traced her fingers across the star of tissue in the palm before clasping it between her own hands. She drew courage from the contact.

"Maur?" Confusion. Trepidation.

"What I'm trying to say is…" Maura searched for words. The entire English language, which had yet to fail her over the years, was now useless to describe what she wanted to say. Why was this so difficult? She latched onto Jane's previous metaphor and met Jane's confused gaze.

"Maybe I've been drinking the wrong kind of coffee all these years, too."

Never had silence felt so crushing, so loud with the pressure of unspent emotion. First there was disbelief. Doubt. A range of emotions Maura couldn't read in the dark eyes that held hers, that danced across her face. Searching, wondering. Maura's cheeks heated beneath the scrutiny, warmed with the knowledge of her risk. But she hoped Jane read it all, read the sincerity behind trembling hands and nervous eyes. Gradually, the storm calmed, leaving in its wake an expression that heated other parts of Maura's body.

The hand in hers tightened its hold. She squeezed back. She didn't know if she pulled on Jane's arm or if Jane rose of her own accord. But it didn't matter because Jane was sitting, close, and once again the scent of lavender left her dizzy.

Jane let out a soft breath, still somewhat disbelieving. She reached up with her other hand and slipped tentative fingers along Maura's jaw, into the hairs at the back of her neck. Maura closed her eyes as a thumb explored the delicate skin where throat met jaw. She leaned into the touch, and clasped her own hand around Jane's forearm as her pulse pounded. Her fingers tightened. _Please_.

Another hand rose to tuck a curl behind her ear and frame her face. Fingertips dragged along her skin. Slow, sensual, pulling a shiver down her spine. Her eyes opened to awed brown, brown that dipped to her lips and back up, asking a question.

 _This isn't a mistake?_ Jane's forehead pressed against hers, warm breath teasing her face. _Are you sure?_ Hesitant, longing.

Maura traced her hand up Jane's arm along a now familiar path, settling at the dip where neck met shoulder. She clutched a bit of shirt and felt Jane's breath hitch.

"Maura." Low and firm. She made the word sound like everything.

Sometimes you have to _make_ your moments.

Maura tilted until their lips almost touched, and she was drowning in the delight of _almost_.

"Jane?"

"Yes." Not a question. Not a question at all, but an answer.

Maura sank forward the final few inches and her world narrowed to the taste of cinnamon and caramel. Just a brush at first. Tender, unhurried. She marveled at the unexpected softness. And then Jane kissed her back and she lost her words. There was only _this_. The slow press of skin against skin, the fire of fingertips along her throat, the wet warmth of a mouth as the kiss deepened. Jane. This was _Jane_ … Maura found the gap between shirt and shorts and began to explore the smooth expanse of muscle. Jane made a small sound in the back of her throat and Maura's stomach dropped.

She pulled away, just to check, to steady some of the trembling in her bones. A nose brushed hers, a rub and a playful bump amongst shared breaths. Warm arms held her close, too close to really see, but then… Then there was the addicting upcurve of a smile, and those crinkled caramel eyes, and if Maura hadn't already been sitting, she would have fallen.

"Okay?"

It took her a moment to register the question. Maura only _hmm_ ed, hands wandering, and she felt a laugh vibrate through Jane's chest. It set her skin on fire and she knew she wanted to feel that again. Lips tasted the corner of her mouth, and Maura tightened her hold around Jane's waist.

"You brave woman," Jane murmured, deep and raspy. Another kiss, this one on her throat. "You brave, brave woman."

If this wasn't what it felt like to melt, she would have to reconsider her stance on physics.

She drew Jane's chin up so she could taste those lips again. Press everything she felt into motion, into _Jane_ , so maybe Jane could understand the thunderous tumult behind every pounding pulse beat. A hand tangled into her hair, tugging her closer as teeth nipped her lower lip, and she thought maybe Jane heard.

"Brave?" she asked, breathless, when she pulled away. Somehow Maura had ended up on top of Jane, reclined against the armrest. The position didn't look comfortable, but Jane's hold didn't loosen when she tried to shift.

"Yeah." A finger caressed a path from her temple to her chin, and Maura's breath caught at the expression in dark caramel. "I've wanted you for…" Those eyes turned stormy again, and Maura pressed a light kiss to her lips, lingering for reassurance. _That doesn't matter now_. The muscles beneath her relaxed once more, and she enjoyed the length of Jane's body beneath hers.

They lay in tangled silence for a while, touches occasionally straying into new territory, dotted with reassuring kisses. A few chuckles mixed in. Enjoying their new definition of together.

Jane was the first to break the silence. "I love your kind of coffee."

Maura laughed. "Me too."

Fingers brushed along her bare arm. "Is the door locked?"

Heat rushed through her. "Yes."

"Mmm." A pause, and Maura felt her thinking. Jane let out a deep breath. "This…all this could be complicated."

Maura lined her fingers up with Jane's and laced them together. "You know how I feel about that."

"Oh?"

She knew what Jane meant. They needed to talk. A talk that involved scary words like forever and future and always. Parents and siblings and coworkers. But somehow, for Maura, it wasn't all that intimidating anymore. By the grin on Jane's face, it wasn't for her either.

Her words were quiet, genuine, as she murmured them into the hollow of Jane's throat. "Just because it's complicated doesn't mean you should give up on it." She kissed the indentation.

Jane pulled their clasped hands to rest over her heart, and Maura felt the strong beat against her palm. Jane turned her head to whisper the promise in Maura's ear:

"We won't."

…

 _fin_

…

A/N: I love writing these two ladies. Hope this satisfied any lingering discomfort from part one. The awesome tumblr prompts were as follows:

Polotiz: "Maura teaching Jane how to use her coffee machine."

Mauraislescomplex (drisles on FF): "I saw the following post on my dash & naturally thought of Maura & Jane: 'I just want a girl who touches me distractedly, like sitting watching a movie and she just kinds of drags her fingers over your skin while watching and she doesn't have a motive she's not trying to tickle you or be sexual with you she's just touching your skin and feeling the shape of your bones under that skin like it's physically comforting for her to know that you're right there under her fingertips.'"

Many thanks.


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